by Rissa Brahm
Tony, the driver, glanced up at her repeatedly through the small rectangular rearview mirror. Maybe he thought she sat there, smack in the middle of his back seat, on purpose, ready to chat. He looked nice enough, a clean-cut, seemingly professional and undeniably handsome man––a welcome change from the recent line of cab drivers she’d experienced over the last day and a half. But chatting with him or anyone for that matter was the last thing on her mind.
To keep her nausea at bay and her nerves from completely short-circuiting, she really only wanted, rather needed, to zero-in on the view ahead, his reflection not included, in silence. Not to be rude, but she was too tired. Too drained. Hopefully, he would intuit her exhaustion and understand.
Or maybe he didn’t care about her etiquette at all. Maybe he was a gawker, catching a glimpse at a semi-pretty face? Oh, and there they are again, those eyes. Takin’ a peek, then back to the road.
His eyes were gentle, kind.
God, she almost wished he was an asshole like her recent cabbies, offering no words, no smiles, no nothing. That might be way easier.
But he seemed nice. Mellow. Not an asshole, at least not on the surface. Maybe deserving a word or two, at minimum. But she couldn’t. She really was too beat to even utter a syllable. Because that would lead to words, then sentences, then potential backstory and explanation. And she couldn’t muster the strength to explain anything to anyone, including to herself.
But after a minute of the limo’s smooth, fluid course toward the highway, none of her mind’s concerns mattered anyway. Her eyelids and her body began to sink as the inevitable wave of helpless exhaustion took over, and she began to drift off.
*
He had pulled up to the front of the club, and the crown prince Demonte had a girl pulled in tight to him, a small Asian beauty dressed in a slightly professional skirt suit—rare for arm candy of Johnnie Demonte’s usual arm candy.
And after introductions, logistics, and a large wad of green bills was transferred to him, Antonio pulled out of the club’s parking lot with his new contracted client.
He couldn’t help but see her face in the rearview as he checked the truck behind him, a large semi following way too close. He pumped his brakes lightly and watched the truck back off a bit. God, she looked deep in thought, almost lost, and sapped, her heavily lashed lids half-fallen. Tired, high, or both maybe? But something else about her struck him, something more. Something he couldn’t quite place.
“Where to, then?” he asked through the intercom, consequently startling her half to death, as told by her gasp and the stunned expression he glimpsed through the rearview. “Sorry if I scared you.”
God, how stupid of me. He could’ve asked her through the open partition, which he’d left open because at first she seemed to want to talk or say something and he didn’t want to be rude. Anyway, use of the intercom was a habit.
In a quiet and almost defeated tone, she gave him an address in Fort Lee and nothing more; hardly even cracking a polite smile. She only resumed her dazed look out his windshield. Hey, he’d take quiet over chatty any day.
The resonating silence motivated him to insert his earbuds, find his American eighties playlist, then heed his mantra: “Keep your eyes on the road and drive.”
*
He figured he’d go up 95. It was the best route despite the rush hour traffic they’d be hitting right then. He didn’t think she’d mind being stuck in the congestion, though. She had already fallen asleep.
As he moved through the stop-and-go, he looked in his rearview every few minutes at the tailgater behind him. And again he couldn’t help but glance at her too. Especially now that she was asleep and he couldn’t make her feel uncomfortable. Most passengers were opposite Jocelyn Carlson. Privacy was expected with the whole luxury package.
Jana Park. She was for sure Asian, but uniquely something else. He could tell by the shape of her eyes and her nose. In her lips and the curves of her body too, when he’d first seen her on Johnnie’s arm. Whatever her ethnicity, she was definitely not hard to look at. And as for her demeanor, it didn’t really matter to him, but he couldn’t deny his curiosity. After all, he’d be driving the woman around day and night for three months. So far he couldn’t make her out at all. Morose or exhausted or coming down from that possible high he suspected. Or just a snotty bitch? Just too early to gauge. And hey, what was the title, ‘consultant,’ code for? Johnnie’s bullshit term for ‘stripper’ now? Or the new politically correct term industry-wide, maybe? Whatever the case and no matter her looks, her demeanor, or her purpose for living, she was connected to Johnnie Demonte and really, that was enough to know.
And as long as he was getting paid, and again, no one was throwing any demands at him in his limo, all would be fine. And in three months, he’d never see her again. Because he’d be going home.
CHAPTER 15
Forty minutes later, he got to the address she’d given him, and he laughed to himself. Not only had she directed him to his favorite Korean restaurant in the northern part of the state, Korean Soul, but they were parked, well…in front of a restaurant nestled between a barbershop and a thrift store. There wasn’t a single house in sight. She must’ve been worried about giving him her home address. He guessed he couldn’t blame her, not these days. Maybe she already had a good sense about Johnnie Demonte. Either way, at least, she was cautious.
Her nap had morphed into a really deep sleep. She had fallen over on the seat, curled up like a baby. He had to wake her, but God, asleep there, she looked almost angelic. All the stress and the layer of something like grief she’d worn on her face when she’d gotten into the limo had all faded away.
Now he knew what was different about her, that thing he hadn’t been able to place before. He could see an actual visible glow about her, soft and hardly perceptible. But he believed in energies. He used and manipulated such force fields in his martial arts, and she absolutely had an essence about her, especially radiant now as she wasn’t awake to fight it. The woman damn-well glowed.
But Johnnie Demonte? What the hell was she doing with him? Or more like, what was he doing with her? Toying, manipulating, using—just pick the poison. And whichever it was, how soon would that little prick strip that radiance from this sleeping angel in his back seat?
None of your business, damn it. Eyes on the road, Antonio.
He sighed, then tried to wake his passenger. “Ms. Park? Ms. Jana Park?” He spoke through the partition. “Jana. We’ve arrived. We’re here.”
*
For seven plus years, she’d exposed her freshly shaven slit to hordes of lecherous men while three or four other girls slapped her ass or went at her tits like hungry kittens, but here she was, blushing from the awkward and somehow intimate wake up by Tony the Limo Driver? His gentle touch to her shoulder had sent warmth and chills through her all at once; the strange sensation still lingered as she sat up and wiped the drool from her chin. Oh God, really?
How badly she missed her solitary life; ER to home, home to ER, more or less alone. She so craved that again.
He stood outside the open door now, waiting to help her out of the limo.
“Traffic took its toll,” he said, noticing her check the time on her phone, blurry-eyed. “You know, I can take you directly to your house. It’s late and I’d prefer to bring you safely to your doorstep. I’m insured, bonded, and licensed. You don’t need to worry about security matters on my end,” he told her. His voice was thankfully mellow, matching the quiet of the night and the sleepy haze that still hung on her eyelids.
She rubbed her eyes and let out a light laugh, then shook her head. “No, no. I live upstairs. Above the restaurant. I wasn’t worried about you having my address.”
She grabbed her purse and slid out of the backseat. “I’m a New York City ER nurse. Not much scares me, least of all a chauffeur from the Jersey suburbs,” she quipped, but her sarcasm even took her by surprise. She softened then, feeling badly. “Sorry. It’s late and I�
�m just really tired. Thank you for getting me home. I don’t know how this works. Do I call you when I need a lift next, or…?”
“Here you go.” He reached into the compartment under his radio and handed her a business card. “During the day, I’ll be waiting wherever you are, or I’ll always only be twenty minutes away, at most, grabbing a bite or whatever. But either way, when I’m not parked where you are, just call my direct cell anytime, day or night. The Demontes have contracted me for three months solid. I’m all yours.” His cheeks blushed immediately and his eyes shot to the ground with his last words.
She pretended not to notice as she took the card from his hand with a nod of thanks and shoved it directly into her purse. “Okay, well, can you come in the morning, like at six? I’ve got to get to the hospital, Fort Lee General. Then down to the club by five.”
“Not a problem,” he said as he moved back from her, reaching for his car door.
“Let me just…” she said as she rummaged through her purse in the dark.
“No tip, please. The Demontes have handled all costs.” He gave her a mild smile, so professional, almost robot-like. He was a good-looking, well-built man, but with zero spark, no personality to speak of at all. She could tell this would be a long three months. But, again, she needed as little chatter and drama added to her pot as possible. Tony would work out fine.
She nodded her thanks again and headed toward the entry door of her parents’ walk-up. The idea of sleeping in a real bed was drawing her in, but at the same time, she prayed to the heavens that the house stench was gone. But hell, she was so tired, a bed in a dumpster might be welcome at this point. Keeping low expectations when it had anything to do with her folks was a healthier route. Anyway, she’d undoubtedly catch some sleep, and would be as prepared as she could be for the next day, for more of her folks, the doctor, the bills, and then the club. Yeah, another day in paradise.
CHAPTER 16
It was a rough night. Her mother may have opened the restaurant, but it didn’t smell any better. Had the staff even cleaned it before customers came in? God, I hope no customers came in.
Either way, she’d been wrong. Her parents’ place, or a dumpster, a paper mill, or a morgue; none of them were viable to sleep in, no matter how tired she’d been, and she should have known better. The queasiness in her stomach turned to retching her guts for an hour and a half in the middle of the night. The reek had crossed the line. She should’ve stayed in a hotel and spent the money, or in the damn hospital chair, and taken the paralyzing neck pain.
Anyway, she was showered and ready to go well before the sun rose, physically needing fresh air. Jana escaped the building with her life thirty-five minutes early. And strangely enough, the limo was already waiting for her.
Tony got out of the limo like a flash to open the car door for her. God, it was as if he’d sensed her coming down the stairs or something. It was slightly eerie, in fact. Hell, it was weird enough having the unnecessary limousine service in the first place.
“Good morning,” he said, hardly looking at her, then he took her roller bag from her and loaded it into the trunk.
Again, all professionalism. But, really, this kind of dry, standoffish service-crap really made her squirm. She hated being waited on. She was a nurse, a service-oriented professional herself. She could stand a non-presence, a quiet shadow, but if this guy treated her like she was part of the elite upper crust, God, like Ilana-fucking-Simon, she’d go absolutely nuts. She’d be in this guy’s presence every day for ninety days.
“Morning,” she answered as she got into the stretch.
He nodded like in a damn movie, and she threw him a polite grin back. Oh, yeah, she’d definitely need a distraction, something to take her mind off of the awkward and sickening servitude-thing going on. She’d insist on sitting up front, but she didn’t want him to think that was an invitation in the other direction, unnecessary small talk. God, if only she hadn’t forgotten her earbuds and mp3 player; if she had those with her, she’d be set. And, come to think of it, earbuds would be ideal during time with her dad. She made a note in her phone as a reminder to track down a player, even a crappy one from the hospital gift shop.
Once on the road, she checked her phone for missed calls. No calls from family, a good sign. Nothing from work either. Luly had said she’d explain things to her boss, but now things had changed. Drastically. Now she’d be gone for three months.
Three. Fucking. Months!
She had to call Nora herself. She couldn’t put that off. But God, she dreaded the call because she dreaded the response.
“So you’re actually a nurse in Manhattan? Must be intense,” Tony piped through the open partition.
Hmm. Okay. Maybe he felt the same need, to make things a bit more casual? But as she predicted, the alternative was the obligatory polite chatter, not a better option.
She shook her head to herself. A realization. There was no happy middle. She didn’t want to be there plain and simple. She only wanted to be in her ER, so no matter what Tony the Driver did, too polite or too chatty, too gruff or too nice, he wasn’t going to win. And she didn’t want to take out her shit life on a stranger.
Damn it, she really needed those earbuds.
“Yes, intense is a good way to describe it,” she answered as evenly as she could. Then she felt a kick in the gut as a surge of intense worry came over her—her ER, Nora, her shifts, Ilana taking them, Luly, Ashley the little legless girl, Ilana again. It all came rushing in. Her teeth gnashed out her nagging frustration.
“I…hospitals…clean. You’re a brave…”
“What’s that? Sorry…” Her mind’s voice had muffled his words.
“Oh, I was saying about hospitals. Hate ’em. They’re almost too clean, too sterile. But then, strip clubs, forget about it. Too filthy. I can’t even step into one. I guess I’m a bit OCD. You’re a brave soul in my book…across the board.”
She swallowed, still attacked by her mental whirlwind, but she shoved the ball of anxiety down deep and continued. “Uh, I don’t know about being brave, but, yeah, I love my job, I mean at my ER. But I’m on hiatus now. My father had a heart attack two days ago, here in Fort Lee.” She kept it brief. She didn’t feel the need to tell this guy her whole life story. Nor did she want to think about it. She’d have her parents staring her in the face in a matter of minutes.
“God, I’m really sorry,” he said, seemingly sincere.
A minute of silence passed. She was glad for it. She looked again at her phone, checking that her volume was on high to be sure she wouldn’t miss any calls.
“Your father’s lucky to have a medical professional by his side, and putting your career on hold for him.…” He paused a beat, brows raised. “I can’t say I see that too often.” He smiled at her in the rearview as he prepared to make the turn into Fort Lee General.
It was true. Her parents were lucky to have her, not that they’d ever see it. But that didn’t matter; they were her parents. Who else would they go to? She wasn’t going to let her mind go there. No, Dane wouldn’t ruin another goddamn day for her.
And wow, Tony’s words really hit home. Maybe most people were like her brother, focusing only on good old number one while letting their family fend for their own pathetic selves.
The limo stopped, their chat was over. They’d arrived at the main entrance to the hospital. She was glad since his next question up would probably have been something along the lines of, “So, what does an ER nurse on medical leave have to do with The Wet Spot, Johnnie Demonte, and with strip club consulting?” She sighed. She really didn’t have the answer if she had to give one in a sentence or less.
She gathered her things. “What time should I be out in order to get to the club by five?”
“Best to leave here by four, I’d say. Um, do you need your little luggage bag or would you prefer me to leave it in the trunk?”
“I’ll take it with, thanks.” She felt like a damn gypsy, but it was what it was. At
least, she had a sufficient outfit to change into in the bag. And a hospital restroom was far cleaner than yesterday’s department store and hands down better than her folk’s place or the club.
Now on the curb, staring at the doors of the entrance, dread-fueled procrastination set in.
“First step’s the hardest, huh?” Tony said through his driver’s side window.
She turned to him and offered only a slight smile. He was right—again. Her heart pounded in her chest. She hated the idea of being in a room with her father for the entire day again, and the high probability that she’d get an updated hospital statement.
But she bucked up and moved her feet into the hospital lobby because her very lucky parents were waiting.
*
“Ask Jana. Chang, ask her,” her mother nudged as Jana walked into the room.
In a not-so-quiet hush, Jana’s father pulled her mom toward him. “She’s not a doctor, Jin. She changes bedpans for Christ’s sakes.” Then he released the woman. “Just, goddamn it…wait for the doctor.”
A close-lipped smile spread over Jana’s face, and behind it, she held her tongue with her teeth and swallowed her already cracked and damaged pride. Let him sweat out whatever worry he had. Let ’em ask the doctor. Yeah. Definitely better that way.
Jana kissed her mother hello and goodbye, sending her home to rest. “I need to leave here at four, Ma, but from the looks of his vitals”—and the sound of her father’s ever-supportive words—“Dad’s getting back to his usual self. He could probably stand a night alone, even.”
Her mother disagreed vehemently and said she’d be back “after her brief nap.” Ah, the subtle guilt trip. Jana thought about making her mother another “Closed” sign there and then, one that read, “Should be Closed for Good.” For the health and safety of all. But hell, if the woman wanted to run herself ragged, let her.
Once her mother left, she handed her father a book she’d brought him, Catch 22 by Joseph Heller, ironically appropriate for her situation. It had been the easiest to reach on her parents’ bookshelf, really.
